


Window of Opportunity

by GwendolynD



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Community: spn_reversebang, M/M, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynD/pseuds/GwendolynD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen's peaceful vacation is cut short when Officer Ackles is pulled into a case that threatens to destroy everything.  While Jensen experiences life on the other side of the bars, Jared struggles to find a way to save him.</p><p>--Written fr Spn_reversebang for the amazing video by Rumrouz</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window of Opportunity

Jensen held the tie tightly in his hands, creeping barefoot around the corner of the hallway to peek in the kitchen, willing his jeans not to _swish_ against themselves. The entire cabin was dark, only a few candles here and there, and the clouds hid any stars that might have given some light. His heart pounded as he scanned the area before creeping through to the living room. Where was he hiding and who would find who first? A shadow on the floor gave away the other man’s location, and with a few quick and careful steps, Jensen slid around the doorway and had Jared’s arm twisted behind him in no time, using his other arm to push him flat against the wall. “You have the right to remain silent,” he whispered, letting his lips brush against the shell of Jared’s ear as he spoke.  
   
He could feel the shudder that ran through Jared, but he held the taller man firmly against the wall as he began to wrap the tie around his wrists. Securing a knot around one wrist, Jensen grabbed for Jared’s other wrist, pulling his arm to position so he could secure them together. Jared struggled, and months ago it would have made him laugh and ruin their scene, but they had gotten better at playing their parts. He could tell it was still a weak attempt, so Jensen leaned into Jared’s ear again, pressing him against the wall as he whispered, “keep struggling, your ass is mine.”  
   
Jared dropped his shoulder and shoved his weight against Jensen to push him off balance before stumbling to a jog out of the room and down the hall. Jensen caught his balance and cut Jared off, grabbing his bound wrists in one hand and forcing one shoulder towards the ground to drop Jared to his knees. They were both panting, but Jared had taken to pushing Jensen’s limits each time they played this game, and today seemed to be no exception because he tossed his head to the side to throw Jensen off balance again. It almost worked and Jared got halfway to his feet despite his restrained hands, but Jensen recovered quickly.  
   
He suspected Jared hesitated long enough to allow Jensen to grab hold of his wrists again, but it didn’t really matter. They both had the same goal in mind anyway, and Jensen wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to that he wasn’t dying to get out of these pants and feel Jared’s hot skin against his cock. Jensen manhandled his husband down the hall to the bedroom and shoved him down on the mattress so he could pin him down with the full length of his body. Finally, their lips crashed together after the thrill of the chase. Jensen scrambled to undo their belts without breaking the contact. The way Jared wriggled under him did nothing to help him keep his focus. Jensen knew it was because his hands were tied and trapped beneath them, and the rush of having control drowned any thoughts of untying him.  
   
Kicking off his pants, Jensen stood at the end of the bed and ran his fingers along the hem of Jared’s pants and boxers, pulling the clothing off inch by inch. He peeled his shirt off and dropped his own boxers to the floor before climbing onto the bed, locking eyes with Jared and sliding a hand behind his back. He loosened the tie and as Jared moaned in relief, Jensen hoisted him closer to the headboard. Jensen groaned his appreciation as Jared automatically raised his arms up to be retied. Instead of using the tie again, Jensen slid his hands under Jared’s shirt and pushed it up over Jared’s head and along his arms. When Jared moved to pull his arms free, Jensen twisted the fabric together to prevent it. Stretching the fabric so that it could hook over the bedpost, Jensen rolled Jared onto his stomach, nipping at his neck.  
   
Jared wobbled as he dragged his knees up underneath himself, and Jensen slid his hands over the smooth curve of his ass before landing a hard smack on the skin that made Jared shout out in surprise. Jensen laid his body on top of him, letting the hot line of his cock lay against his ass while he grabbed a fistful of hair and twisted Jared’s head sideways to kiss him roughly. “Gonna beg for me, aren’t you babe?” he breathed into his ear, releasing his hair to glide his hand along Jared’s spine before delivering another sharp smack to his ass.  
   
The moans that it pulled out of Jared were guttural, raw, and Jensen needed to remember this for future use because the noise was sending shivers directly to his cock. Jared’s body rocked back, pulling against the self-made shirt-restraints, and when Jensen sat up to watch, he was greeted by one of the  hottest things he had ever seen. His husband was naked and grinding back against nothing, which left his ass perfectly on display while his hands stretched above his head.  
   
“Fuck, Jen...please...” Jared stuttered, voice husky from his panting.  
   
Nipping the outside of Jared’s thigh, Jensen mouthed his way up to swipe his tongue across a his balls, causing Jared to buck backwards with a loud moan. He took the time to clear all traces dripping from the tip of Jared’s cock before ghosting his tongue over the puckered hole. Swiping the trace of precome from his slit, he pressed one finger into Jared, his other hand braced in between his shoulders.  
   
Jared grunted and forced his body back as much as he could before groaning out, “Jesus fuck, Jen--thought I was your bitch?”  
   
The grit in Jared’s voice made his cock twitch, and there was something about the primal need in his undertone that made Jensen rush to grab the lube from the bed side table. Wrapping his hand around his throbbing erection, Jensen quickly slicked himself up before he roughly shoved in, quickly finding a steady rhythm.  
   
The game and the roles were forgotten in the air of gasps, moans and smacks of skin against skin.  The only disadvantage to the nights they role played was that they got so wound up from the play that neither of them lasted very long when it came to actually fucking. Jensen dug his fingers into Jared’s hips as he angled his thrusts to hit Jared’s prostate. As Jared cried out and clenched into his orgasm, Jensen let go, resting his forehead against Jared’s shoulder as they shuddered their release.    
   
Jensen was barely coherent enough to remember to release Jared’s wrists before they completely collapsed against each other, panting, sweating, and in total bliss.  
   
~~~~~~~~

By the time they had their pants back on, the dogs were both whimpering for attention, desperate to go outside. “Okay, okay,” Jared said with a laugh. “We haven’t forgotten about you.”  
   
To be perfectly honest, Jensen kind of **had** forgotten about them, like he forgot about everything when he and Jared were alone together. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but it still took his breath away sometimes.  
   
“Uh, Jen? How did Misha Collins get the address to this place?” Jared called out from the doorway, over the sound of yipping dogs.  
   
“What?” Jensen answered. “He shouldn’t have it.” Jared simply handed Jensen an open envelope in wordless reply. Inside was a thin piece of paper that smelled of very strong cologne.  
   
“Roses are red,  
Violets are blue.  
Monogamy is great,  
But threesomes are too,” Jensen read aloud. “Yeah, this is definitely from him.”  
   
“Babe, we have to do something about this,” Jared said, and Jensen knew he was right. Misha had been hounding them about this for months now, and couldn’t seem to figure out that they just weren’t that into him. It set off alarm bells in Jensen’s head that he must’ve looked at Jensen’s personal files to get this address, but Jensen really didn’t want to take out a restraining order. Since Misha worked in the lab at the station, that might mean he would lose his job, and Jensen didn’t want to get anyone fired. Misha was annoying, yeah, but probably harmless.  
   
Just then the shrill beep of his pager rang through the cabin, and Jensen groaned, setting aside the poem to reach for pager, and fumbling to look at the number in the dark light.     
   
Jensen turned on his cell and dialed the number.  
   
 _"Hello, Agent Speight speaking."_  
   
"It’s midnight. What's going on?"  
   
 _"A call just came in, and it's from Ridge Point. I know you two are away being bunnies in heat, but we need you Ackles. We're on our way out, but it will take us at least half an hour to get out there, even with the sirens. You're only minutes away from the scene. There were screams and a gunshot only five minutes from where you are."_  
   
Jensen ran a hand over his face, dreading leaving the warm cocoon he and Jared were snuggled in. "Alright, what’s the situation?”  
   
 _"The tip mentioned squealing tires on the gravel, but that doesn’t mean it’s a vacant scene, remember. Look, I gotta round up the rest of our team, but can you please go scout it out? It’ll take us twenty minutes even with Lindberg driving.”_  
   
Dressing quickly, Jensen nodded, and then dug his badge out from the bottom corner of his duffel. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. See you in twenty."  
   
As Jensen hung up and grabbed the weapon’s cabinet keys, he frowned, realizing then that in the anticipatory rush to get to the cabin, he had forgotten to store his registered firearm in the station’s lock-box. He shook his head, pushing the thought away because there wasn’t anything he could do now. He’d ask Richard to retrieve it from his house to store it for the remainder of his vacation.  Instead, he’d have to rely on his backup weapon and just fill out the appropriate paperwork after. Spare tucked into the back of his jeans, Jensen found Jared standing against the wall, hands in his pockets and smiling—but Jensen knew Jared well enough to know that he was just as disappointed as Jensen was to get the call. The timing **sucked** , but the call was just too close to him, and too far from the station.  
   
“The scene is five minutes away and I can get there well before first response." Jensen pouted to make Jared laugh, and to make sure he knew they would be disappointed together, and they kissed quickly before Jensen made himself pull away. “I gotta go, but we will continue this as soon as I’m back,” Jensen promised with a hint of a purr in his voice.  
   
“Mmm, don’t let Richard follow you home again and don’t forget to bring your handcuffs back this time, alright?” Jared winked. Jensen laughed before sinking into their silver Toyota and sliding the key in the ignition. Jared stood, shirtless and staring out the window as Jensen pulled out, but he had to block that from his mind if he was going to get anything done properly. The location was only a few miles away, so he had little time to refocus his thoughts to his duties.  
   
Rounding a corner on the road, Jensen struggled to control the skid into the gravel driveway; he could barely see it with the clouds blacking out the full moon. There was another car there, and that meant that it could potentially be the assailant's. Sure, someone had heard a vehicle leaving, but....you could never be too careful. He sent a quick text to Richard telling him to hurry because he wasn’t sure if the scene was clear. He slid from the car, triple checking his surroundings, ears straining to hear the slightest sound. He was on edge because he’d worked many city cases in the last eight years, but rural cases, not so much. It made him uneasy that there weren’t cement walls surrounding him, but instead clusters of trees where anyone could be hiding and get a jump on him.  
   
The back door to the cabin was ajar, a thin strip of light stretching out into the dark yard, almost reaching the car. Jensen grabbed his flashlight, crossing his wrist over his drawn weapon **,** and then he slunk forward. Back against the wall, he called out his intent to enter the building armed, but received no response. Because of the 911 call, Jensen knew he had grounds to enter, so he carefully pushed the door open with the tip of the gun as he inched his way inside. Jensen rounded the corner, and that's when the splash of blood caught his eye. A small spatter on the table, then he saw one on a nearby wall, and a pool of it coming from behind a couch he couldn’t see behind. It was like he was walking right into a cliché horror movie **,** but it was the job.  
   
Approaching the couch, he first saw the lock of blonde hair, then the blood stained fingers, and then the rest of the female body spread out on the floor, eyes wide and mouth open as if she hadn't quite had time to scream. Jensen covered his mouth with the back of his hand, moving the light’s beam away from the blank eyes, trying to stifle the smell of the fresh blood -- you never get used to it, no matter what anyone says. A quick check of his watch gave him an estimate of ten minutes until the team arrived – so Jensen returned to cautiously scouring the rest of the property.  
   
A tour of the cabin and lap of the property later, Jensen found himself back beside the body, crouching. He couldn't see anything indicating a wallet or purse lying around and it didn't seem like there was anything in the woman's pant pockets. The blood definitely seemed fresh, and Jensen hoped the responders would be able to pick up a clue where he hadn't, and find the runner.  
   
As he leaned forward to stand from his crouching position, a glint of silver caught his eye, and he frowned, freezing and bending down again. He leaned on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the shadows under the couch. Something was there, he just couldn't quite see it. It felt important that he know what it was, and as more light caught the item, Jensen blinked and recognized the squared off, oval shape of silver. Knew it too well, because that dent in the metal? A close call with a knife wielding runner had caused it. He knew that because it was **his** gun - the same assigned gun that he had forgotten at home.     
   
This was his property.  It shouldn't be sitting in a pool of blood as if it had caused the damage surrounding it. He knew he should stand, back away and wait for Richard and the others. He knew he shouldn't, **knew** it...but he still reached out to wrap his hand around the butt and pull it from under the couch.  
   
It was bloody, and the thick liquid ran over his fingers, dripping onto the ground. He couldn't tear his eyes off the carving on the side, trailing the pad of his thumb over the scratch he only now remembered was from the day it was assigned to him and he fumbled it in his excitement to show Jared. He laughed slightly at the memory of Jared stifling his laughter, and wiped his jacket sleeve slowly across it. Blood couldn't be on his weapon. Blood didn't belong on his weapon. He needed to take it off. The first swipe and the blood across the butt of the gun was almost gone. He smiled, only barely, because it seemed right, if only a bit. He would clean this weapon, this shiny, silver weapon and it would all be alright. Part of him knew he was in shock, but mostly he just thought of wiping the remaining drops free, making the shine come back.  
   
The door slammed open, and Jensen blinked, turning his head towards the door. Two officers crowded through, guns drawn and pointed at Jensen. That was when Jensen realized he was now staring at the door. Stunned, half smiling, and holding the weapon covered in blood with his jacket **also** covered in blood. Oh, and crouching over the body.  
   
Fuck.  
   
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There was a knock at the door, and Jared was relieved that Jensen was home. He was always nervous when Jensen was working and he wasn’t occupied. He knew cops got hurt, even died in the field and it was just wrong to think that Jensen could get shot and die while a doctor was waiting at home for him. But he was home now, and obviously the dolt had forgotten his keys to the cabin when he'd rushed out, only grabbing the car keys. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!" Jared hollered over his shoulder with a smile, waiting for Jensen’s usual husky reply of ‘then I’ll huff and I’ll puff’ before he got up to answer.    
   
The knock came again, this time a voice echoed after it. "Mr. Padalecki, we need to speak with you."  
   
Jared's heart stopped. That wasn’t Jensen. That was an official tone. This wasn't good.  
   
Jared stood slowly and went to the door, looking out to the driveway as he passed the window. There was a car parked there, but it wasn't their car. It wasn't the silver Toyota that he knew Jensen had taken when he left, but instead it was a black, sleek thing, that looked completely out of place in the gravel driveway, surrounded by trees.  There were two men in uniform standing at the door, and fear settled into his chest.  
   
Not many people visited them out here, other than Richard, but these men seemed to be coworkers of Jensen’s. But then, why were they here, and not Jensen? A wave of dizziness washed over him when he realized they might be here to tell Jared that Jensen was dead....  
   
Jared opened the door and greeted them with a forced warm smile, choking back the awkwardness he felt, refusing to let the questions come gushing out just yet.  
   
"Sir, may we come inside? We'd like to speak with you privately."  
   
Inside. Inside was private. Yes, but....so was the porch. They were in the middle of freaking nowhere and they were surrounded by lakes, trees and nothing. How could inside be more private than this? Instead of protesting, Jared nodded slightly, and stepped back, and once the officers crossed the threshold, he found his voice. "Is Jensen dead....?"  
   
"Sir, please sit down."  
   
Jared took a deep breath, nodded and stumbled over to the couch. He settled into the spot where he'd been sitting only seconds before, the warmth still lingering in the cushions, and he stared at the officers. "Is he dead?" he repeated, numbly.  
   
“No—“  
   
Jared let out the inhale of breathe he’d been holding, relief flooding his ears and blocking the rest of the sentences falling from the officer’s mouth. It took a moment to bring himself back to the here and now, still smiling from relief when he realized the officers were looking at him expectantly. Jared cleared his throat, straightening in his seat again. “Sorry—I missed that,” he admitted.  
   
"Jensen Ackles has been arrested. We need you to come down to the station."  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
Jared rushed into the station—Jared noted that it wasn’t the one that Jensen worked at—with the officers who had driven right behind him. He'd been playing scenarios in his head for forty five minutes, and he was not calm. All he knew was that Jensen had been **arrested** and it didn't make any sense. He was a police officer! He'd gone to the scene to help!  
   
"What the hell is going on?"  
   
"He's being held under suspicion of murder."  
   
Jared almost choked on his tongue. He leaned forward to push his palms on the counter and stared at the woman standing behind it. "Murder?"  
   
She looked at Jared sadly, looking down at her papers, then back to Jared who was waiting, wide eyed for an explanation.  "His life is over.”  
   
"On what grounds?" he demanded angrily.  
   
"Mr. Padalecki, Mr. Ackles was found at the scene of a crime holding his registered firearm--the murder weapon--and covered in the victim’s blood. We’re running his prints now, and have reason to believe he’s a prime suspect for previously unsolved cases.”  
   
Jared, struggled to find words, glaring at the woman--Officer Finn according to her tag. He figured his safest words were to declare he would be back with a lawyer.

~~~~~~~~  
   
Pulling onto the highway and heading towards their rural home, Jared jabbed a button on his phone, waiting a second before speaking. "Call Mark Sheppard.” He waited, and with each ring that trilled through the Bluetooth he became more and more worried. When the voicemail clicked in, Jared fought the urge to hang up in frustration, and decided to leave a short message, so he could explain more in person when they met. "Hey, Mark? That lawyer you had mentioned? I think I need his version of the law…”  
   
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"You murdered them in cold blood!"  
   
Jensen leaned forward, well-versed in interrogation tactics. He wasn't going to falter. This wasn’t his fault. "That wasn't me," he repeated. It was basically the only thing he had said for the last hour.  
   
The sharply dressed agent sat back in the wooden chair and sighed. "You're not doing yourself any favors, Mr. Ackles. If you cooperate with the bureau, we can work on your plea bargain, but if you don’t cooperate—well, you're already on the road to the Pittsburgh State Penitentiary **,** without bail, for life.”  
   
“I want my phone call,” Jensen muttered, low under his breath but solidly enough that he knew he’d been heard. He needed Jared. Jared had the brains and the contacts. It was killing Jensen that Jared didn’t even know what was going on. He was probably still sitting at home waiting for Jensen to return from the case.  
   
The last few hours were a blur, hazy, and he honestly couldn’t recall what had happened after his response team had shown up. Through the interrogation, he had been able to fill in some blanks though. Apparently the first thing he had said was that he thought Richard had said it would take them twenty minutes to arrive. Upon reflection, Jensen realized that was an incredibly stupid thing to say, and was likely being interpreted as a ‘I thought I had more time to escape’ statement. He also learned that it was his firearm that had killed Miss Cassidy, a property rental manager.  
   
Jensen tried asking for his call again, receiving only a short response that they weren’t done yet. Jensen groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes, as another agent entered the room and tossed a folder on the table. It took a majority of Jensen’s will power to avoid laughing when the agent rattled off his theory that Jensen had rented the cabin out for months, lured Miss Cassidy out, and used his husband and coworker to create an alibi.  
   
Jensen clenched his jaw. It was wrong, it was all wrong, and yet it seemed like they had decided everything was set in stone. Jensen had been witness to enough trials to know that saying nothing was better than saying too much. That way, his words couldn’t be twisted.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
"Mr. Ackles, please come with us now. Stand facing us, feet apart and hands above your head."  
   
He stood, glanced across the table at the detective and then away again before slowly raising his arms above his head. He kept his eyes averted after that because he knew that direct eye contact was seen as a challenge and a potential threat.  Jensen took a moment to notice his pounding heart--something he had been denying the entire time. To notice the twitches in his shoulder that always gave him away to Jared when he was most scared. It wasn't until the detective grabbed his shoulder and forced him down against the table that it registered he had been spoken to. His hearing was nearly non-existent and he felt numb, simply tuning everything and everyone out. Metal dug into his wrists and he was shoved toward the door.  
   
It felt like there was a brick in his gut and cement on his feet, but Jensen had no choice but to let himself be led from the building out the back door to a waiting officer. It continued to sink in how much trouble he was in when he saw that another officer was holding a set of prison shackles that were intended for his wrists and ankles. He was forced to turn his back to the officer so that the handcuffs could be replaced by the large, heavy shackles. He could no longer play this off in his head. This wasn't a joke, a dream, or some messed up hallucination from a lifetime ago. He had seen bodies before, he had been in front of armed officers before, he had been in handcuffs plenty of times, and he’d certainly had his share of time working in the interrogation rooms. Shackles--though he had seen them--he had not experienced. This was not something he could pretend was another drill—it wasn’t their jurisdiction to ever need to deal with shackles. The shackles indicated just what deep shit he was in, and as strong as he tried to be, he was forced to admit to himself now that he needed Jared.  
   
He needed Jared for comfort, to just be his husband. ‘Til death do us part. The problem was, he didn't even know where Jared was at the moment. Maybe he was still at the cabin waiting for him to return, or maybe he was being hauled in for questioning, or maybe he was out drinking and cursing himself for marrying a murderer. He didn't know, but he hoped that Jared was waiting, oblivious, at the cabin. The last thing he wanted to see was Jared believing that he'd done this. He couldn't take that humiliation, that knowledge that Jared didn’t trust him enough to believe in his innocence.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
The bus screeched to a halt behind the station not long after and the doors clanged open, an officer’s hand on his shoulder guiding him roughly to the stairs, and he clearly didn't care that the shackles prevented him from taking large steps. He stumbled in, and sunk into a seat, waiting for the tight chain of the restraints to be locked into his assigned seat, and then the bus was off again. There were only a couple of other people on board, and Jensen found himself wondering what crimes they had committed. Everything was lit in a strange light and it made his head spin as he wondered. The man at the front of the bus--what had he done? Had he tortured someone? Had he committed an act of battery? Or maybe grand arson.  
   
 _Or maybe he's innocent._ The thought floated through his head, and the scenery flying by fell out of focus as he dropped into his thoughts. Before today, Jensen had assumed “innocent until proven guilty” was merely a legal formality, but he was starting to realize there was more to it. More to everything than he'd initially thought. How many innocent people had sat here? He wasn't so arrogant as to think that he was the first innocent to be jailed, but it had never entered his mind how it would feel to **be** that person. Or how many people could have been wrongly accused. A world of black and white was no longer clear in his head. Now Jensen was mentally filing through every case he could remember, a methodical, yet desperate attempt to see if anyone he had arrested could have ended up where he was when he remembered the flickering TV behind Richard weeks ago, and the shot of Matt Cohen’s release from prison.  A man found innocent after six years locked away because of the arrest Jensen himself had made. When he saw the steady gaze of the man looking directly at the camera, Jensen hadn’t been able to help but feel like the glare was directed at him. 

The bus ground to a halt, and an armed officer climbed aboard while Jensen took the time to look around. Everything was protected by officers. Entrances, exits, fences....and there were a lot of fences. Chained and exhausted, Jensen shuffled his way in line behind the other prisoners and did his best to put on a stoic face, looking directly at each officer to try to show the other prisoners he wasn’t weak, even though he knew they guards might keep a closer eye on him now. They were the lesser of two evils.  
   
He swallowed around the large lump in his throat, sure that everyone within a fifty foot radius could tell how nervous he was. The prisoners in the yard barely faltered in their regular activities, though a few of them who had glanced up to take stock of the new arrivals. It was unnerving. Here were all these people acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, and Jensen had just had his world turned upside down.  
   
The flash of a large, Celtic cross tattoo caused Jensen’s nerves to coil up tight, and set him more on edge. It was the one thing that had set Clif Kosterman apart from the dozens of other arrests he’d made. A string of battery and assault charges had put him on the police radar, and it ended up being an arson conviction that had ended him up on the list for the state’s penitentiary. Kosterman had obviously recognized him too, though Jensen couldn’t say what might have set him apart from the crowd.  The sneer that crawled across the man’s face chilled him, and it was all he could do to hope that it didn’t show. There were a couple of other faces he recognized, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out if it was from the news reports or from his own personal arrests. His certainty that these men had all been guilty wavered, and it dawned on him that even an innocent man in jail would harden over the years to survive the hostile environment.  
   
A clang of shackles dropping, a new uniform, and a smaller living space later, and Jensen found himself in the middle of a crowded cafeteria, heart pounding, disgusting smells hovering in the air, and a sea of orange blanketing the room. He held a full tray of what was supposed to be lasagna and corn but looked more like –Jensen didn’t even want to think about it. He sat down at a table to the side, where no one else was sitting. The eyes trained on him had his skin crawling and he wondered if all new inmates got this treatment—or if the word had already spread that he was a cop.  
   
A sort of silence fell over the room save for the occasional murmur, and when he looked up to see what the hush was about, Jensen found himself flat on his ass on the floor before he had time to react. Pain danced across his face, and with a hand to his cheek, he found Kosterman towering over him, snarling. Jensen scrambled away and was later informed he had sat at Kosterman’s table--the guy “you didn’t fuck with.” Jensen’s throbbing and split cheek agreed with the statement. He needed to learn how to survive, or he’d be dead inside a week, the way things were going now.

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Everything was a blur, and it had been killing him to not visit Jensen, but there were things he needed to do, thoughts he needed to sort out. It had taken days to get the police to stop questioning him, and he had finally relied on playing the distraught husband card to get them to ease up. In truth, he was numb to everything but his own sense of determination.  
   
The fact that the severity of this situation hadn't smacked him in the face yet had him almost concerned. He was sure that anyone might consider his actions extreme, that it would be foolish to throw his life away in order to pull something so intricate off...and hell, he thought he was crazy himself...but there was never any doubt in his mind of what he had to do.  Jensen was innocent, and if the courts didn't realize it, then it was up to Jared to get Jensen back. **For better or worse.**  
   
Jared had remained on his regular scheduled rounds at work and the only routines he had to change were those where the press did their damnedest to cut him off--parking and walking into the hospital. The cameras in his face were starting to really piss him off, more so now that he knew each and every picture taken could end up in the paper the next day, accompanied by another insane headline. Like yesterdays ' _Local Surgeon knows Ridge Point Butcher_.' 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The jail felt stuffy, his collar was suddenly too tight, and Jared was sure that every guard was eyeing him with knowledge, but the quantity of information swimming around his head made him feel claustrophobic. Everything settled and calmed when Jensen sat on the other side of the window and picked up the phone. It was so good to see him, and the ache in his body to touch and hold him gave Jared the wave of loss that he'd questioned if he was ever going to feel. Nothing had been real until now. There was no footage of Jensen arrested because he was cuffed and in the station before daylight and press hadn’t been allowed on site when the bus unloaded the prisoners at the gate. Jared had no conversations with him, only officers telling him this was happening and that their life together was over--in not quite so many words. All the press released seemed speculative and fake because no one had a photo of his husband doing anything. But here, with Jensen led in by a guard, ankles shackled, sitting behind a glass and talking through a phone...this was real. It broke his heart to fucking pieces.  
   
He sat in the chair, shifting as the phone sat cold in his hand, and they stared at each other, Jared taking in the changes in Jensen despite the logically short amount of time since he saw him. The energy and happiness normally in his eyes was gone, but a more determined look set in, his hair less groomed than usual—fluffier, and Jared kind of liked it—and then there was the cut on his cheek. Jared wasn’t sure he wanted to know the circumstances of the fight that had probably inflicted the injury, so he kept his mouth shut.  
   
“I did not kill anyone.”  
   
Jared focused on Jensen again, his eyes steady. “I know.” His heart pounded, and he had to get out of the chair, out of the building. It was wrong, and sitting here made him

  
[begin](http://gwendolynd.livejournal.com/67280.html) to think about details pertaining to his husband’s case, and he didn’t need that. In his gut he knew that Jensen was innocent, and that was all he needed. Evidence be fucking damned.  
   
Jared lifted his hand to press it against the cool glass, but thought better of it, instead thinking back to an old code, and flicking the window three times with his middle finger before turning to leave. It killed him to see Jensen like this, but he knew if he stayed too long, he’d be inclined to talk, and if he talked--he was afraid of ending up on the other side of the glass with Jensen. There was a kind of power in having the guards unlock the prison doors for him at his request, but it was short lived. They wouldn’t be so obliging next time. Jared gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove away from the prison - away from Jensen - and back toward the heart of the city.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
Maybe it was the anxiety of being alone every night, or the stress of working long days after being up all night, but Jared couldn’t keep himself from flipping his pen rapidly between his fingers and on the rickety old motel desk. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to their home. He hadn’t sorted through his own feelings yet, let alone any of their belongings. The computer screen flickered in the late night as if taunting Jared.  
   
Jared determinedly slapped his pen onto the pad of blank paper beside him and unfolded himself from the chair to reach for the now-cold “hot” chocolate he had bought from the nearest caffeine hub. If he didn’t hear from Jim soon, he was going to---  
   
The phone rang, and Jared answered it with a swift plea for information. It took a lot of discussion, and a number of coffees, but they had a plan before the night was over. They would meet the next morning, make the appropriate trades and then it was just a hurdle of an impossible task to set the ball rolling. Jared could be arrested, he could lose his license to practice--he knew this, but despite that, every night when it came down to one question...can I do this?...the answer was always a resounding yes.    
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
Jared screeched to a stop at the end of the back road that he’d been directed to. He twirled the coin in his coat pocket around and around in his fingers while he waited, tapping his foot impatiently. When the truck turned the corner and the older man sitting behind the wheel climbed out, adjusting the hat lower on his forehead, Jared stepped forward and pulled the envelope of cash out of his pocket.  
   
He handed it off, and watched Jim’s face as he flipped through it, counting. He tossed a small plastic baggy at Jared and tossed the envelope backwards through the window to plop on the passenger seat. Jim reached through the window to remove a beer from his seat and pulled a long drink, and all Jared could do was stare at the new items in his hands. Of course, it wasn’t like passports were foreign to him. Both he and Jensen had them, but those wouldn’t be of any use within the next week. These passports, for Mr. Robert Halkin and Mr. Jeremy Malone, represented a whole different level of ‘new’. identity fraud, potentially ruining the career he’d worked his entire life for. Conning the fucking police - not long ago, he’d have said it was impossible; now he was praying for just the opposite.  
   
Mark had given him one hell of a [defense lawyer](http://gwendolynd.livejournal.com/67280.html).  
   
Jim laughed into his bottleneck, tipped it to his hat beak like a salute, and climbed back into the truck, rumbling on down the road to the tune blaring on the radio.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
The passports were burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to stash them away, but there was nowhere he trusted himself to put them where they couldn’t be found. He was notoriously bad at hiding things, as had been proven repeatedly every birthday, Christmas and Valentine’s Day celebration for years prior. He didn’t dare take them from his dress shirt to ease the imagined burn against his skin, but it left him distracted and off his game, and it was pulling attention to him. The last thing he needed was eyes on him.  His best defense? Pull out his acting skills and hope they were convincing.  
   
He was angry, hurt and heartbroken; how could he have been so stupid as to marry a murderer? How could he not know? No, he never wanted to see the bastard again (it had broken a piece of his heart to take his wedding band off and wear it on a chain). Yes, he appreciated the offers for drinks, but he had an early shift tomorrow, so he was going to jog around the motel and just try to forget for a little while. No, Richard, he did not need ‘Naughty Nurse Neil’ but thanks for the offer.  
   
It was difficult to withdraw from everyone, but it was all he could do to keep people from prying too hard, from coming to ‘console’ him at the motel room and seeing the chaos. The last thing he needed was a visitor to see the packed bags he was readying to ship out of country to wait for them, the fake passports or the scribbled papers everywhere. Yet for all his efforts, he couldn’t ditch Richard on the day that he’d set up to drop the book off at the prison for Jensen. He insisted on riding along, so that afterward, he could take Jared ATV’ing and get him to ‘loosen up’. Jared knew what would relax him--Jensen back in his arms. Still, Jared played along.  
   
“I really appreciate the thought, man, but you don’t need to come with me. I know you’re Jen’s partner and all, but it’s not like you have to take care of me.”  
   
“Oh I know I don’t need to,” Richard answered with an easy smile. “But it must suck to be alone through all this. I’ve got your back, Jared, no matter what.” The words sounded odd coming out of Richard’s mouth, like something he should say to his partner and not his partner’s husband, but Jared pushed it to the back of his mind. He had bigger things to worry about.  
   
“Thanks,” he said absentmindedly, barely noticing when Richard reached over to pat his knee reassuringly.  
   
After parking at the prison, Jared let his new shadow follow him inside. He snarked at the guard that this would be his goodbye ‘gift’ to Jensen, and that he figured since “Jensen is such a religious man, the bastard will need all the help he can get from this thing.”  
   
With his hand in his pocket, Jared needed to dig his nails into his palm to keep from imagining how that would translate to Jensen through the guards’ filter, but he hoped it would get the point across, and also help him fly under the radar.  Jensen had to know that such an uncharacteristic book given “specifically to him” would be meant as a tool to help him. He had to, or Jared might accidentally break his heart.  
   
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Routine was easy enough to fall into - not like he had a choice - but the nights were the longest. They left him with way too much time to think. And Jensen had a lot to think about. He kept remembering the shine of his gun under that couch, the way the blood had dripped off its handle. He had no idea how it had ended up there, but it was clear that - just like his fingerprints - it hadn’t been left by him.  
   
So then who? Jensen hated to admit it, but he wasn’t short of enemies. He’d put a lot of men away for a lot of years, arresting them and then testifying against them in court. Men like Clif Kosterman, who’d already proven he held a grudge. And then there was Matt Cohen, recently released from the prison Jensen had helped put him in. Maybe Matt had set him up; now that he knew what it was like to be falsely imprisoned, Jensen almost wouldn’t blame him. Or maybe this wasn’t a professional issue at all. The letter he and Jared received from Misha the day of the shooting lost all its comedy in the weak glow of the single bulb hanging in Jensen’s cell. Though he’d never seemed dangerous, Misha was smart, and he had access to police files and resources.  
   
The ridiculous part was that Jensen didn’t spend nearly as much time trying to solve his own case, as he did trying to figure out Jared. Jared had been brief and very hard to read during his last visit - which was unusual for him. Jensen knew Jared inside and out, and to think that he couldn’t even tell how he was feeling during that short visit shook him. Jared believed that he was innocent…right? He had to. But then, why hadn’t he come back to visit? Another thought that shook him. And the damn flicking on the glass—what the hell was that? It annoyed Jensen to no end and he was beginning to feel sure that it was really just an annoyance to emphasize the fact that Jared was leaving; maybe for good.  
   
A tap dripping nearby seemed to drill a pin into his head with each drop, and it was all Jensen could do to keep from throwing his pillow against the wall in an attempt to do something--anything--about it. He knew it would prove useless, so he chose to rap his knuckles on the stone to the same beat—at least that way he might trick his mind into thinking that he was making the noise. It almost reminded him of a camping trip they had taken years ago, and they had devised a system of knocking.  
   
Jensen sat straight up in the bed, smiling like an idiot. How had he not thought of this before? Jared knocked three times. Three meant ‘I’ve got your back, be right there’.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
A guard shoved the book through the [slot](http://gwendolynd.livejournal.com/67280.html) in his cell, and for the next ten minutes Jensen sat, examining it, turning it over and over in his hands. Why the hell did Jared give him a **Bible** , of all things? The cover fell open as he turned it over again, and he noticed a small tear in the binding. He glanced around, pulled the spine apart and a fat cigar fell out. The wrapper around it unrolled as Jensen picked it up, and he read the few words scrawled across it in Jared’s familiar chicken scratch. **5cc Tetrodotoxin Infused Cuban Cigar**. It didn’t make sense, he knew nothing about drugs or medical terms, but he trusted Jared, and that was what mattered.  
   
~~~~~~~~  
   
The smoke swirled in his mouth as he held his breath and then slowly exhaled as he lay back on his bed. It had been a while since he enjoyed a cigar, and the intoxication of the smell helped him relax, closing his eyes and taking another pull from the thing, drifting into a world in his head. It wasn’t until a sharp pain tore through his chest that Jensen remembered that he was in a jail cell, and that somehow, Jared thought this would help him. He needed to remember that, and he repeated it to himself with each fresh bolt of pain ripping through his body. He yelped, clutching his chest, and scrambled to the bars, screaming for help as another burst of pain tore through him and brought him to his knees.  
   
The approaching guard slammed his night stick against the bars, trying to settle Jensen, but Jensen knew something was wrong now, and he reached through the bars again, pleading. It was hard to breathe, and everything was turning fuzzy with the pain, but the guard seemed to take it as an attack and whacked Jensen on the forehead. That was when he fell to the ground, writhing in pain.  
   
The last thing he heard before his heart seemed to shrink to the size of a dime, were footsteps echoing down the hallway and voices shouting too loudly to decipher.

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Jared yawned, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyelids, then stared into the empty coffee cup, wondering why he had chosen to do a double shift today when he clearly wasn't fully up to it. Something inside of him had just told him that he was sick of waiting around at home and wondering what was going to happen next, that he needed to spend what little time he had left trying to help people.  
   
It was the shrill wail of a siren pulling into the adjacent ambulance zone that pulled him out of his daze. He groaned out of habit, but was internally thankful for another emergency. His buzzer would go off, and he'd be back on his feet and busy again. His mind would be, mostly, occupied. As he stood, he suddenly blinked to attention. That wasn't an ambulance siren. That most definitely wasn't a hospital related siren; it was most distinctly a police car. Or three. Jared spun to face the window in time to see four police cruisers fly by with an ambulance smack in the middle of them. His heart stopped. Was this it?  
   
He abandoned his cup on the table and hightailed it for the emergency department. He cursed to himself when one of his attendings pulled him aside for a critical patient update. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make it to the emergency ward, and the ambulance had already pulled in, emptied and taken off, but there were still three police cars hanging around. Everyone had their eyes on the patient with the ventilator who was being wheeled out of sight down the hall.  
   
Jared's heart pounded. Was it--?    
   
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before he stepped up to the administration desk. It was Jensen. His Jensen. He'd started yelling for help about twenty minutes ago, and the guards had thought it was a ruse, until he'd fallen and started seizing. The paramedics had done what they could, but couldn't determine the cause of his arrhythmic heartbeat and had done what they could just to keep him breathing until they had gotten to the hospital. Now, the triage nurses were scrambling to determine a cause of the seizures, and so far nothing.  
   
That was enough information, but the fact that the cause hadn't been determined, ironically, put fear into him. Had he fucked up? What if he'd put too much in the cigar, what if he really had killed his husband while trying to break him out of prison? He pinched his wrist and reminded himself of the hours he'd spent thoroughly researching every medical book he could find for the perfect cocktail that would create an emergency situation, but really be of no risk to Jensen. He hadn't gone to medical school for nine years without learning a thing or two, and he needed to remind himself he knew his stuff.  
   
Jared was dismissed from the area--thankfully no one seemed to realize that this man was his husband--or maybe that was **why** they had dismissed him. He couldn't tell, maybe his colleagues were as adept liars as he was beginning to be. He didn't need to be asked again, because he took the time to go to his locker. He pulled out the plastic gift shop bag that was filled with the most basic of Jensen's clothes and a few of his own, and walked the halls to head back to the ER. Checking his watch, he fidgeted with the handles of the bag while he ran through his research in his head. If Jensen had started seizing twenty five minutes ago--he had another five or ten before Jensen woke up--but how was he going to make sure that no one was watching the room when that happened? That was something he hadn't thought of. Fuck.  
   
Doubling back to the nurses’ station, Jared ditched the bag under a specimen cart that he pushed with him. He casually mentioned the extensive paperwork the police should fill out immediately to ensure the room was properly protected. The nurse - new- became obviously flustered, apologized for not thinking of it earlier, and skittered down the hall. Jared turned the corner when the investigating officer who -- from what he knew -- had arrested Jensen came from around the corner towards the station on his police radio.  
   
Taking an alternate route past, Jared peeked down the hall to see the officer still filling out papers. There were no officers outside Jensen's door, and he prayed that there weren’t any inside either. Abandoning the cart outside, he glanced back and slid through the cracked door, easing it closed behind him. All fears, worries and panic melted away when he saw Jensen wide eyed, sitting up and looking at him. Jared smirked despite himself; the hardest part was over. He had broken his husband out of jail. He. Was. Awesome. They were together again, and fuck the world; they would make the rest of it work, no matter what.  
   
Jared made short work of the ankle cuffs confining Jensen to the bed and the look that crossed Jensen's face was almost priceless in its shock and relief and confusion all at once. Jared tossed the bag of clothes at him, and then rattled off what they now needed to do. He couldn't stop himself from watching Jensen pull the gown off and the shirt over his head, realizing how much he’d missed having his husband - and his husband’s body - around. He shook his head to focus, because right now, he needed to get an accused felon out of a guarded room and secure hospital, and then out of the freaking country.  
   
He guided Jensen out the door and hurriedly around the corner after ditching his own lab coat for a different shirt. Reaching the end of a corridor that would allow them to reach their escape route, Jensen stopped dead and spun around. Jared quickly followed his lead as a uniformed guard wandered past the two of them on his way towards Jensen's room. When he disappeared through another door, Jensen and Jared hurried around the corner and out a back door.  
   
Jared tossed Jensen the keys that had been burning a hole in his pocket since the plan went into action, and guided him to the waiting sleek black car. Jensen eyed the car and asked Jared where he’d gotten it, but Jared only cautiously replied that he’d learned a few things. It was kind of amazing how easily he’d learned to play with the law once he’d had reason to. Easing into the car as the engine roared to life, they looked over at each other and smiled. Jared guided Jensen on a back route towards the airport and after Jensen waved him off once, he sat back in his seat, trying to calm his pounding heart. It would be okay. He needed it to be, because the last few weeks without Jensen had been fucking hell, and he still didn't even know what had happened at the prison itself. Jared was steeling himself for that information, but he kept himself from asking; he couldn’t handle that knowledge until they were both safely out of harm’s way.  
   
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Jared glanced at the new text as Jensen steered them to their escape. He smiled to himself at Richard’s message, which asked if Jared had freed Jensen, and if so, if he could help by getting the force off their back while they escaped. He knew Richard would understand, and having someone on the inside would really help. He replied with their  flight number and departure time.  
   
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Jensen eyed each of the cars that they passed, and each one made him more and more nervous. He knew the local police force; he knew how many undercover cars they had access to. It was a kind of hurting his head thinking about how his life had been devoted to catching criminals, and here he was, breaking the system he’d worked so long to protect. It made him wonder how secure the justice system really was if they’d slipped it so easily, but Jensen had no idea what Jared had done to pull this off, and he was pretty sure he wanted to leave it that way. After all, he was happy to no longer be at the mercy of the people who had been ready to hand him a life sentence for crimes he hadn’t committed.    
   
Jensen tore around a corner, pulling into the stretch of parking lots in front of the airport, and in a scan of his side mirror he caught a glimpse of something he thought he recognized. With a double check in the rear-view, he realized he recognized the license plate number of a car a few lengths back. It was a vehicle that shouldn’t be anywhere near here, if things were going to work. He cursed, snatching Jared’s phone out of his hands and sending a quick text off to a distant relative, someone he’d always known he could count on.

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Jensen sped past the main parking lot, and Jared frowned, scanning his profile for a clue as to why, but he decided not to ask. If Jensen had reason to change the route, then he’d trust him—Jensen was the expert in the police stuff anyway.  
   
The car screeched to a halt, and Jensen ripped his seatbelt off before flying out the door towards the terminal entrance, weaving between people with more determination than Jared had ever seen. Jared stayed close behind him. Jared’s phone beeped in Jensen’s hand, and Jared gave him a flustered look when he glanced down at it. They were in the middle of running for their lives here!    
   
Jensen tucked the phone away and then grabbed the arm of Jared’s coat, steering down a different hallway, and Jared felt a sudden sense of hysteria fall grip him. These were the freaking cops they were running from. Cops. Police. Certified criminal capturers. He laughed slightly to himself as he realized he’d been a fool for thinking they could escape. How the hell would they get on the plane without being detected? Sure, fake passports—but their faces hadn’t changed and he knew Jensen’s had been plastered everywhere since his arrest.  
   
A desperate tug on his arm pulled him back to the here and now, and he stumbled after Jensen, slowing to a brisk walk as they neared another gate. He tried hissing something to Jensen about this not being their gate, but when Danneel came into view, he realized it didn’t matter. He’d had that kind of faith in her since they’d all gone to high school together, and he couldn’t think of anyone more suited to a career as a flight attendant. Danneel always had the situation under control.  
   
Jensen nodded and smiled politely to her before grabbing the passports from Jared’s coat and handing them to her. The sign above her blinked “Final Boarding” and the double blink she batted at him when they locked eyes was enough. It was her version of a wink, always had been, and Jared knew that he owed her the world’s biggest favour, now. She took Jensen’s passport in hand, and Jared felt a little bit more of his anxiety melt away as he realized the document never completely passed under the scanner: no blink on the computer indicating that Jensen was boarding, and a second later, the same for his own, a fresh boarding pass pressed between the pages indicating their seats.  
   
He began to say something, but she cut him off, firmly stating that the plane was late for departure and they needed to board immediately. Jared fought the urge to hug her, but he knew there were security cameras all over the terminal, and the last thing he wanted to do was show a connection to the employee who had let them on the plane. He smiled, willing all his gratitude to show in his eyes before hurrying behind Jensen to the attendant showing them to their seats.  
   
Once they both had their seatbelts on, Jared leaned to Jensen, asking him why the hell he’d changed the flight that Jared had set up already. Jared blinked in confusion when Jensen revealed that Richard had been following them. He had spotted Richard’s car, undercover, leading other cruisers to the airport. Jensen’s voice sounded flat and his expression fell as he recounted how he saw Richard entering the terminal, ready to draw his weapon as he scanned the crowd. Jared had been too busy blindly following Jensen to notice any commotion.  
   
Jensen elbowed him in his side and glanced behind him to the window across the aisle. Jared leaned forward slightly so that he could see the commotion outside and smiled as they began their taxi down the runway.    
   
They had done it.  
   
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Danneel looked at her supervisor as she stepped away from a uniformed officer and strode over, a definite sense of purpose in her step.  
   
“Samantha, what is this all about?” There were police all over, and, with a glance out the window she noticed there were vehicles pulling in to surround a plane further down the strip, holding it from take off.  
   
“A convicted felon escaped from the hospital earlier with aid from his spouse, and is believed to be aboard Flight 708. An officer just boarded to search the aircraft.”  
   
Danneel put on her best concerned look, and nodded. “I hope they’re found—that’s horrible,” she lied, glancing to the sergeant who was waiting with his radio in hand, tapping it against his shoulder as he waited for an answer from the officer on board.  
   
Samantha nodded, and they both jumped when the radio crackled to life with a buzz, and a voice broadcast through: “Sorry, there’s no one by that description on this flight.”

 

 

 

 

   
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Acknowledgments

  
First and foremost, I want to thank the mods for their amazing work!  Without their dedication, planning and organization we wouldn't be able to have such a fantastic challenge to do!  <3<3   
  
[](http://rumrouz.livejournal.com/profile)[ **rumrouz**](http://rumrouz.livejournal.com/) \-- Thank you honey, for such an amazing prompt. I know I've said it over and over, but your video grabbed me from the second I watched it. I've had such a great time working with you, and I'm glad to have had such a collaborative process with you, even despite our huge time difference!!  Your support has meant so much to me, and your continual confidence kept me going to make sure I did your video justice!!   
  
[](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/profile)[ **bree_black**](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/)   --  You have been my soundboard, my cheerleader, my bad-ass beta and so much more.  Our word wars are epic and awesome! I cannot express how much I appreciate the amount of time you have spent helping me with this fic, and I hope to write a scene based on that amazing typo!!  Your tough love helps me

[learn](http://gwendolynd.livejournal.com/67663.html)

where I can do better, and if I'm lucky, the information will stick with me! Much love to you!!

[](http://lookturtles.livejournal.com/profile)[**lookturtles**](http://lookturtles.livejournal.com/) \--  A wonderful cheerleader of mine, and you came through for me at the end and helped with an amazing amount of beta'ing. Thank you so much for helping me out hon, and I am sending you giant hugs ASAP.  Your continual positive energy helped me through a lot of tough moments. Mwuah.

[](http://ikira.livejournal.com/profile)[**ikira**](http://ikira.livejournal.com/) \-- You have been my heavensent sanity keeper, or something. I owe a lot to your ability to absorb my venting, to cheer me on, to scold me on my instinct to angst and to provide general amusement when my mind began to wander!  Did you find my little nod to you inside? ^_~

Thank you to [](http://dante-s-hell.livejournal.com/profile)[**dante_s_hell**](http://dante-s-hell.livejournal.com/) and [](http://a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com/profile)[**a_phoenixdragon**](http://a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com/) for their overall energy and cheerleading. It means a lot to know you guys are behind me too!! 

*snuggles everyone*


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